Summary: How Kurt discovered that Karofsky was in Calculus. Kurt and Karofsky almost have a conversation. Takes place during Prom Queen, after Santana attempts to walk Kurt to his class, and before Karofsky apologizes to Kurt. Can be pre-Kurtofsky if you choose to read it as such.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
It's Logical
Santana deposited Kurt at his first period class with a satisfied smirk on her face. "Here we are, Ladylips. Culinary Arts. If you need anything, like someone to walk you to the bathroom during class-" Kurt's expression as she continued talking really should've shut her up, but Santana wasn't one to back down easily once she got going- "just text me and I'll be excused from class to accompany you there."
Kurt stared back at her, incredulous and annoyed. "If I leave class in the middle of the period, the halls will be deserted."
"Exactly. Who knows who might be lurking in the hallway, just waiting to get you alone."
"No, Santana," Kurt paused to regain some semblance of patience (he never was very patient to begin with) and Santana waited expectantly. "Never mind. Go. Just go."
She nodded. She even had the nerve to look pleased. With herself, no doubt. His reaction had little to do with it.
"Karofsky will be by to walk you to third period. He has math or something, so it should be near your French III class."
"You have my schedule memorized? Why do you have my schedule memorized?"
"Figgins gave it to us. You can't expect us to walk you to class without knowing where your classes are, do you?"
"I suppose it's too much to ask for to just want to walk myself to class. Like I used to."
"Yeah, because that worked out well."
"I can take care of myself. I'm not fragile."
"Dave will be here to walk you whether you like it or not, because your safety is important to us." Why did she have to sound like a flight attendant? "So you better suck it up and deal." And with that, she was off.
Karofsky was standing outside the door to Kurt's Culinary Arts class as soon as the bell rang, math book in hand and looking for all the world like he'd rather be anywhere else. Kurt figured he must've gotten out of class early in order to get there so quickly, not to mention had time to stop at his locker for his math book.
Scratch that. Calculus book.
So there was the good chance that it wasn't even his book. Maybe he just nicked it from someone on his way there. Always a likely scenario.
Kurt acknowledged him for the sole purpose of getting the awkward, embarrassing passing period over with.
"Let's go." And let's not talk. Or look at each other. Kurt crossed his arms protectively across his chest. And for Gaga's sake, let's not accidentally touch.
They started walking.
Karofsky cleared his throat, eyes forward. He widened the gap between the two of them slightly, no doubt following the example Kurt was setting.
"How was class?"
"Fine," Kurt said, his tone clipped.
Karofsky nodded and didn't respond. Kurt really didn't leave him much to respond to, so Kurt didn't fault him for it.
It was supposed to be easier without them talking. There was too much to say for them to actually have a conversation, too many emotions to address to make an attempt at sorting them out in a logical order. Anger and fear and hate and a new one, sympathy- perhaps bordering on understanding, if understanding each other was possible with the constant edge of hurt. Kurt didn't add "desire." Refused to let himself think that the other boy wanted him.
He added "denial" to his list of nouns. It was fitting for at least one of them.
They were cutting their way through the silence between them with one leg in front of the other, footsteps ricocheting off of everything they should say and weren't, the sounds of the hallway echoing back to them and tasting of stale history that they really should throw away but neither of them could work out how.
Kurt took a deep, steadying breath and said, "We made cupcakes."
Karofsky turned to look at him for the first time since they started their walk, eyebrows drawn closer together as he worked out what Kurt meant.
"In my class. We made cupcakes."
"That's a worthwhile thing to learn about in a cooking class."
Kurt was ready with his comeback. Wasn't he always? "That's a completely useless thing to learn about in a cooking class, not to mention how incredibly worthless cupcakes are- loaded with saturated fat and calories with nothing redeeming except for the short-lived taste of sugar and chocolate-" (much better than burgers and soda in an empty locker room)- "we're just contributing to America's obesity epidemic."
It was so easy to fight. It felt so natural. Argue about things that don't matter so you don't have to talk about the things that actually do.
In an odd way, the rant to Karofsky welcomed Kurt back to McKinley in a way that his friends hadn't been able to. The argument was normal. Expected.
Which is why Karofsky laughing at him came as such a shock.
"Fancy, there's this thing called 'sarcasm'. Maybe you've heard of it? I think you've even used it a few times."
Kurt hated feeling embarrassed. His skin was too pale to effectively hide any blush, and the flaming of his cheeks just clashed with his outfits. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."
"You're wearing a bow tie."
Karofsky might have a point. But Kurt didn't want to see it.
Brush away the embarrassment and nicknames that were maybe intended as pet names, and start again. (Could it be that simple?) "How was your class?"
"Awful. English."
"I love English."
"You would."
Kurt was trying to be offended. He was thinking that he should be. But it didn't really sound like it was meant to be offensive, just pointing out a difference between the two of them.
He just had so much practice being offended.
"English is so subjective. Like, you're supposed to come to your own conclusions, but then everyone just tells you you're wrong and shoots you down."
And just like that, it wasn't about classes but rather things that they were struggling not to talk about. But the strain of all of the things that they weren't talking about was weighing on them, catching them off guard.
So change the subject again. "What class do you like, then? P.E.?"
Frustration was a common emotion on Karofsky. A lower degree of anger mixed with the plea for someone to please understand.
Karofsky held up his Calculus book and for a brief second Kurt braced himself in case Karofsky hit him with it.
"I know you think I'm some dumb jock, but…" He lowered the book to his side. So it wasn't stolen then. "Math makes sense. There's a right answer and you can't argue with that."
"I'm not very good at it," Kurt admitted. "I mean, I'm in Pre-Cal, but Calculus… You're two years ahead?"
There was the briefest smile of pride on Karofsky's face.
Somewhere during the conversation (a mostly-real conversation) they had arrived at Kurt's class.
"Have a good class," Kurt said, wanting to add please don't offer to tutor me in math, because I might say 'yes' followed by the sudden proclamation that was as much for Karofsky as it was for Kurt, I have a boyfriend.
"See you."